Across So Wide A Sea
by Nightdew
Summary: Part 3 of the Handmaid of Gondor. As the Elves leave Middle-earth, Elireth finds her love and loyalty being tested in new ways by an unexpected encounter.
1. Chapter 1

_This is for all the people who wanted more sequels to the Handmaid of Gondor. I have to admit, I wrote this specifically for fans who wanted more, so I don't think it quite lives up to the other two (I didn't know as much about plotting when I wrote it as I do now!) but anyway, this is the way it goes for Legolas and Elireth..._

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Chapter 1

The fresh winds of the early year surged round the city and ripped at the banners on the White Tower of Ecthelion but, on the highest circle, Elireth stood in perfect stillness as the black wood warbler alighted on her outstretched finger.

"Remarkable!" she breathed. "Never before has it answered my call thus."

"The descendent of my gift to Aragorn knows the tongue of Mirkwood when he hears it," Legolas replied. "It has merely taken you this long to perfect it."

Elireth released the bird and, with a clapping of wings, it flew away singing into the Gardens of Arwen. She then climbed onto the city wall where her dear friend sat, hugging his knees in Elven fashion, looking wistfully down the dizzying drop to the lower levels and the green fields below. They had grown closer than ever in the last seven years but of the Bond of Love incident nothing was ever spoken.

"You should go back there," she said, gently. "Come with us when we travel North, Legolas. Visit your home once more."

"I cannot," Legolas said, his eyes still on the Pelennor Fields.

"Because the King has made you part of the Protectorate in his absence?" said Elireth. "But surely he could spare you. He would be glad to have you come. Lord Faramir and Lady Eowyn are more than capable and our allies in Rohan and Dol Amroth will be at hand."

"No," he said. "It is my home no longer. When last I returned to Mirkwood, after the victory was won, my Father was standing before the entrance to his Halls. He was waiting for me. But, as soon as he looked at me, he saw the sea-longing in my eyes. It almost broke his heart."

"But will he not sail into the West also?" asked Elireth, confused.

"Not he," said Legolas, faintly, and now she knew why he looked away from her. "The sea-longing has never awoken in his heart. He will remain in the Greenwood until he fades from sight and memory. Long he fought to preserve his wood from the Dark Powers and never again will he surrender it. For it is Mirkwood no more. Eryn Lasgalen he calls it now – The Wood of Greenleaves."

"He named it after you?" whispered Elireth, and she softly laid her small hand upon the pale hand of Legolas, and he did not withdraw it.

Elireth started up from her bed suddenly, the knocking at her chamber door driving away the memories of her last days in Minas Tirith. Quickly, she lit the candle and threw the embroidered coverlet around her shoulders as she went to answer the door. The lost realm of Arnor was beautiful indeed but very cold to Elireth's delicate, Southern sensibilities. Drawing back the door, she was not at all surprised to find a golden-haired hobbit lass of fifteen looking expectantly up at her.

"I couldn't sleep, Mistress Elireth," she said. "Can I come in for a while?"

"For a while, Elanor," Elireth replied, as her small companion scampered in and threw herself upon the bed. "But it will be an early start tomorrow if you want to see us off."

"But I don't want to see you off," sighed Elanor. "I want to come too. It is so unfair of my gaffer to keep saying no when he's always telling us tales of his travels with "dear Mr Frodo". Oh! To see Rivendell and all them Elves, and go to the wedding in Dale, and to see your home and that huge white city, all shining in the light!" She sighed again, dramatically.

"Very unnatural and most un-hobbitlike!" laughed Elireth, shaking her head. "Your gaffer needs you here. He knows what's best for you."

The little hobbit pouted, an expression obviously meant to show extreme displeasure but which actually only made her look sweeter than ever. Elireth smiled at her fondly as she sat down on the bed beside her. The Queen's decision to take Elanor for a maid of honour had been almost the best thing that had happened during the sojourn at Nenuiel, and Elireth was going to miss her young charge terribly, but she could not say she shared the young hobbit's eagerness to travel further. Much rather would she turn south now and come into Ithilien when the berries were red on the rowans and Orion had returned to the night sky. Beside this, there was something else which troubled her, something which made her glad of Master Samwise's firm hand. The trip, she feared, would not be a pleasant one, although she would not say as much to Elanor. She was so fond of her. Few would think to compare an elegant Gondorian with a rustic hobbit lass, but Elireth saw so much of her former self in Elanor, so much she would never see in a child of her own.

"Well, if you must be heartless, at least tell me a tale before I go to bed," said Elanor. "Tell me about the Hidden Grove again. It's so long until breakfast, I must have something to take my mind off my hunger."

Elireth smiled again and produced from her own small travelling chest a sweet pastry, one of several she had kept for Elanor's especial benefit. Then she wrapped herself and Elanor warmly in the coverlet and proceeded with a tale that brought a spark of joy to the fair face of the little hobbit, she who was still too young to see that it weighed down the heart of the teller with memory and longing.

It was only when Elanor was finally packed off to bed that, lying down once again in the darkness, Elireth thoughtfully fingered the Elven buckle that hung, as it always did, about her neck and let her thoughts drift back to a windy day in Gondor.


	2. Chapter 2

Chapter 2

It was over a year since they had set out from Minas Tirith and now the whole cavalcade was off again. Dreary though it was in the grey dawn, Lake Evendim a cold mirror for still stark trees, their friends had turned out in force to speed their journey. There by the roadside stood Thain Peregrine, resplendent in the uniform of the Guard, and his wife and child beside him, and also Master Meriadoc the Magnificent, dressed in the garb of the Rohirrim. At heart, Elireth knew, they were still the same cheery hobbits she had first encountered in the Houses of Healing, although they were older and stouter now. She herself had changed very little, a fact which seemed to confirm Queen Arwen's predictions, and which had not gone unnoticed by her hobbit friends. They suspected, of course. It seemed that Frodo, whom she had known least, had discerned much more than he had communicated. However, Merry and Pippin had been surprisingly restrained, apart from the occasional quip, such as that which Merry had made on first seeing the golden braid about her neck.

"Unless you have taken a shine to one of the Rohirrim," he had said, "I should be very suspicious of this. It looks strangely familiar, somehow."

Fortunately, thanks to the King's ban on Big Folk entering the Shire, she was unaware of the growing legend among hobbits about a maid of the Queen who had taken an Elven lover and was going to live forever!

Beside the road, too, stood Mayor Samwise and Mistress Rose and their incredible eight children. Indeed, it looked as though the good Mayoress was pregnant again. Among them stood dear Elanor, dressed in a miniature version of Elireth's own bejewelled blue gown. She sniffled shamelessly as the host rode by. Arwen, Elireth and all the Queen's household had kissed her and given her many gifts, and the King had promised that she should visit Gondor with her parents in the years to come, but nothing could console her for missing Rivendell.

For it was to Rivendell that they now went, breaking their journey on the way to Dale, where the wedding of King Bard II's son provided the King Elessar with the perfect opportunity to strengthen the ties of loyalty before the return to Gondor. In some ways it seemed a natural break and yet, riding behind her mistress, Elireth was concerned. Arwen had been unusually sad and withdrawn for some time now. She knew of the proximity of the Grey Havens, the very place from which Lord Elrond had sailed with the other ringbearers, and worried what effect it had on her mistress when, even on herself, it created strange visions and desires she would hardly dare to express. To now see Rivendell bereft of its glory, a place which held such memories for both King and Queen, must surely only lead to further heartache. More than this, Elireth sensed the Queen had foreseen something terribly painful and difficult in the journey ahead. What she herself believed this was, she kept quiet until such time as her mistress should speak openly, but it did not make for easy travelling.

It was with a heavy heart, then – on three counts – for those she left behind, for the difficult journey ahead, and for the delay of the journey she longed to make – that Elireth looked her last on Nenuiel and set out upon the Eastward road.


	3. Chapter 3

Chapter 3

The spring had come fully by the time the company reached the Last Homely House. To Elireth and the other Gondorians, the valley clothed in the soft garb of springtime seemed exquisite. They wandered among the gardens and porches, the statues and waterfalls, with a sense of peaceful wonder. But, to those who had seen it in former times, it seemed now lonely and deserted. The sons of Elrond, Elladan and Elrohir, kept up the ancient courtesy of the House, along with Celeborn of Lórien, but most of the Elves who had dwelt there during the Third Age of the world had now departed, and there was a sense of the temporary about the day-to-day dealings of the House, despite the grace with which all was done.

A few days after their arrival, Elireth was sitting in one of the many carven porches with a handful of other courtiers, watching the white blossoms slowly fall to earth. She had felt somehow superfluous since coming here. The Queen stayed very close to her brothers, almost desperately, Elireth thought. Some of the other maids did not seem to mind, but Elireth sadly wished that her mistress would open up to her.

"This seems just the place for a song," said someone. "What say you, Master Mardil?"

The Gondorian minstrel rose to his feet and, looking to the blue sky as if for inspiration, began in a clear voice:

"Forth on the Quest of Doom they went, the valiant Walkers Nine:

High on the snow-capped mountain; low in the Dwarvish mine.

From forest old to river deep,

Cross grassy plain, up staircase steep,

In darkness and in light they walked, in mist and rain and shine.

Four were the hobbit children, bold beyond their size,

Two were the Men of Westernesse, tall with sea-grey eyes,

One was – "

"No! Not that song!" cried Elireth, suddenly, the words leaving her mouth almost before she was aware of it. For it seemed to her that she could not bear to hear the praise of Legolas sung here, when all her lonely moments were tormented by memories of him. The others seated in the porch looked at her strangely, and she rose awkwardly to her feet, waving away her comments with a motion of her hand.

"Forgive me," she said. "Please continue the song, Master Mardil. I do not think I am in the mood for song today. I will take my leave of you and walk here among the trees."

And, leaving her fellow courtiers to whatever rumours they chose to make, she walked out of earshot, turning aimlessly on the paths of the Elven gardens.

She had walked for about ten minutes when she saw the Queen. Arwen was sitting alone on a delicately carved bench overhung with flowers. A teardrop was glistening on her flawless white cheek. Her heart swelling with pity, Elireth ran and knelt before her beloved mistress, taking both her hands, tenderly. Arwen smiled sadly at the sight of her closest handmaiden.

"Alas! Imladris is no more," she sighed. "My brothers leave for the Havens as soon as we depart, joining my Father beyond the Sundering Sea, and this once enchanted valley will fade still further until all memory of the Elves is gone. The King again presses me to sail with them, but how could I ever leave his side? I have made the choice of Lúthien and by that choice I will abide."

Elireth laid her head upon Arwen's lap. She was so relieved to hear the Queen finally speak of what had been troubling her. It was just as she had suspected. As a mortal, she could hardly expect to understand the sorrows of the Elves, to feel the full implication of Arwen's choice, but almost she felt that she did understand. Since the Bond of Love incident, she had dreamt often of a shining shore, the light of myriad stars reflected on the whispering waves. She too had heard the call of voices from the Lost Isle, voices, which were not meant for her.

"Whatever you must endure, I will be by your side, my Lady, said Elireth, reassuringly.

"Will you?" asked Arwen. "Will you?"

And the knowing look in the eye of the Evenstar made Elireth wonder if she had wrongly guessed the Queen's foreboding after all.


	4. Chapter 4

Chapter 4

No one had seen the Queen's final parting from her brothers, but the journey away from Rivendell was a sombre affair. It did not seem at all as if the household of the King Elessar was travelling to an occasion of joy. The terrain was difficult, although they travelled with all the comforts of a royal cortege. Elireth wondered if the King would have been happier with the simple campfires and open-air beds of his Ranger days. It was now that she realised that she was not the only one who missed the Woods of Ithilien. For King, Queen and maid, it was now the only place where they could truly be themselves.

As they neared the eaves of Eryn Lasgalen, the tension in Elireth's heart grew. She had known all along that they must pass through it, though the King had commanded that they pass quickly and quietly along the forest road without disturbing the greenwood's inhabitants, but memories of Legolas filled her with an overwhelming curiosity mixed with guilt at seeing what he had left behind forever.

They stood now at the edge of the great forest, the greatest in Middle-earth. Elireth looked into the eye of her mistress. There was something she could not explain.

"I am afraid, my Lady," she whispered.

Arwen held out a gloved hand to her own.

"And I, too," she said, enigmatically. "Be wise, my child. Only you can decide what is best."

"What do you -?" began Elireth, but Arwen had ridden on.

Silently, in single file, they passed in among the dark trees. The wood was cleansed but still heavily overshadowed, and torches went before and behind, flickering orange among the trees. Elireth looked about her, taking in each tree. Almost she seemed compelled, drawn towards the depth of forest around her. A wood warbler sang just out of sight, and Elireth turned her horse's head towards the sound. Softly, unaware of herself, she began to sing a song of Mirkwood, one of the many she knew by heart. A sense of enchantment was heavy around her. Dreamlike, in slow motion, she dismounted and led the horse away from the road, deeper into the trees. Just once she turned back and saw Queen Arwen turn her head and look at her with deep burning eyes, knowing eyes. Whatever she knew, Elireth did not. She simply felt she had to go on to where she was sure she could near the sound of singing echoing her own. Yet at the same time she felt she could not go on, felt a mist coming down on her like the mist of sleep…

Elireth opened her eyes. She was in a room without windows, but lit by many torches, suspended from the ceiling by silver chains, giving off a light more like to daylight than firelight. The patterns of many trees were carved into the walls, up intricate beams, which expanded across the ceiling; a ceiling vaulted but not too high or imposing. There was a fragrance like that of the forest in summer and, in the middle of the room, a silver fountain bubbled, stirring up a bowl of delicate waterlilies.

"A marvel, indeed," said a voice. "A mortal dressed in the raiment of the High Elves; a woman of the South who sings with the tongue of Mirkwood. What rare jewel have I brought home to my treasure house, I wonder?"

Elireth's heart gave a sudden, involuntary swell. The sound of the voice, and the appearance of the speaker, were so like those of Legolas that, for a moment, she believed it was he. But a second look told her it was not so. The face of Legolas, though that of the ageless immortals, had a sort of wistful innocence, an openness which spoke the desire to love and be loved. The face of this Elf was utterly inscrutable, the starlight of the eyes cold and harsh. His robe of forest green was long and flowing, his golden hair crowned with late summer flowers. Though she had never seen him before, Elireth knew who it was.

She made a deep curtsy. "Well met under leaf and branch, King Thranduil," she said. "Receive the greetings of the Lords of Gondor. I am the handmaid of Arwen Undómiel. Elireth daughter of Elbrin is my name."

"And why does the handmaid of Arwen Undómiel trespass in my woods?" asked Thranduil with a look that seemed to go right through Elireth.

She opened her mouth to speak but no answer came. She could not remember quite how she came to be there. All she could see in her mind, over and over again, was her charmed embrace with Legolas outside the Druadan Forest. She had no right to the son of the Elvenking. He would know. He would know and condemn her.

"You are friendly with the Wood-Elves of Ithilien?" he said, as if he had read her mind.

"Y-yes," she stammered. Instantly her thoughts went to the pendant about her neck, which now seemed a flaming beacon on her chest. How little she wished to draw attention to it, but to think was to look and to look was to betray.

The Elvenking followed her glance with keen eyes, and then raised an eyebrow at her ever so slightly. Of course. How long had she been in this room? Of course he had seen already.

In response, he held up another pendant, a many-pointed star suspended from a golden chain. At its centre was a jewel like amber in which bright lights shone with pulsating beams.

"I see that my son has not yet treasure to compare with mine," he said in a cold, clear voice. "Do not such makeshift keepsakes disappoint you?"

"Legolas gave from the heart!" said Elireth, staunchly; abandoning caution in the face of what she deemed an insult.

"But not deeply enough," replied Thranduil. "Do not imagine you can conceal your mortal desires from the eyes of the Elves. You have looked upon the race of Thingol and have fallen under its spell. Like many before you, you feel the pain of a love that can never be. Length of life will not lessen that pain."

The Elvenking held the golden pendant aloft.

"Do you know what this is, Elireth daughter of Elbrin?" he asked. "It is the greatest treasure of my house, a treasure few have seen. This is the Star of Melian, the jewel worn by Melian the Maia, mother of the Sindar Elves. It was crafted beyond the Western Seas and its lights will be a compass to draw its bearer back to the Undying Lands. Take it and your pains could be over."

"I am not sure that I understand you," said Elireth in a strained voice.

"The eyries of the Windlords are close," Thranduil continued. "The sons of Elrond depart form the Havens. You could take up eagle's wings and be there tomorrow to set sail with them, preserving your youth and beauty among the ageless until the ship comes bringing your heart's greatest desire."

Elireth was unsure what to think. Was Thranduil tempting her? Surely the ban of the Valar forbade such a journey, but perhaps one bearing the Star of Melian would be accepted. Despite Legolas' repeated attempts to settle her into an ordinary mortal life, she still longed for both to be in a land where the sorrows of Middle-earth were gone, where maybe her love might find expression at last. The dreams were getting worse, and she sometimes feared that the sea-longing had been transferred to her, if that were possible.

"Why should you make this offer?" she said.

"I will not seek the Havens for myself," said Thranduil. "You are the last mortal to look on this kingdom of Eryn Lasgalen, for soon it will become such that no Man will find it, though they pass by close at hand, and I will fade with it. But there is a grace among Elves which may give the passage West to another."

"As the Queen gave it to Frodo," Elireth muttered. "But I do not understand why you should favour me," she said, more clearly. "I have done nothing-" but save your son's life, she thought. But Thranduil could not possibly know that.

The Elvenking placed the pendant in Elireth's hand.

"Take it," he said. "Sleep under my roof tonight and then tell me your decision."


	5. Chapter 5

Chapter 5

Elireth was unsure how she was meant to sleep in such a place. Was she Thranduil's guest or his prisoner? Had her own desire drawn her to the Elvenking or had he somehow known of her and directed her footsteps? What was she to make of his offer? Was it a selfless gift or some kind of test?

She looked around the room in which she lay on a low bed. The same intricate beams and endless patterns of trees covered its walls and ceiling. In a panel on the far wall was a painting of a slender Elf in silhouette form chasing a deer on the heights of the forest mountains. His long hair was swept by the mountain winds and he carried a bow in his hand. Unshed tears burned Elireth's eyes. She got out of bed and touched the picture gently with her fingertips.

"_A Legolas, Legolas. Aníron…" _she sighed.

Lying back down on the bed, she closed her fingers over the Star of Melian and pictured herself sailing into the West on a grey ship, the veil of mist parting to reveal the glowing shore of immortal lands. Waiting on the shore were Mithrandir and Frodo and Elrond. Elrond! She opened her eyes and sat up, suddenly. How could she face the stern half-Elf and tell him she had deserted his daughter in her moment of greatest loneliness? But, if she waited now, could she guarantee that she would live until Arwen need her no longer? Seven years was a short time to know whether the blood of Númenor had truly awakened in her veins. The ships were sailing now. They may well be the last to leave until Legolas found whatever path into the West he could.

She closed her eyes again, dragged down by the weariness of impossible decisions. And, on the edge of sleep, another dream came to her. She saw a tall, dark-haired man of Gondor, dressed in the black and silver of the Guard, the white tree at his breast. He was picking her up as though she were a doll, smiling and laughing. By his side, a handsome Gondorian woman reached out and stroked her hair.

"Do you want to fly like a bird, Elireth? Up to the White Tower and into the sky?" he called, lifting her higher and higher.

"Yes! Yes!" she cried. But it was not her voice. It was a tiny, laughing voice, innocent of all care.

Elireth woke, suddenly. The scented pillow at her head was drenched with tears. It was rare that she remembered her parents so vividly. Sometimes she thought of her mother, on feast-days in particular, remembering bits of conversation in the kitchen with Aunt Ioreth and songs by the bedside. But she had been so young when her father had fallen, like so many, defending the White City from the ever-growing threat of the Nameless Land, that she scarcely thought of him at all. Where were they now, those parents, once so brave and loving? The Elves knew not what befell Men when they tasted their mortality or whether the two races would ever meet again beyond the ending of the world. Now Elireth understood properly what it meant to Arwen to walk away from the grey ships, what it meant for Legolas that Thranduil was to fade into his own forest. Hundreds of years of maturity could not lessen the pain of decision for the Elves. Again, Elireth held the Star of Melian tight within her hand. This decision was too big for her to make. But she knew now what it was that she must tell Thranduil when she awoke.

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_aniron _I desire


	6. Chapter 6

Chapter 6

"You have reached a decision, then, Elireth handmaid of Arwen?" said Thranduil.

"Yes," said Elireth, "and no. I have not the wisdom to make at this time a decision, which may separate me from my people forever. Nor can I leave my mistress to face her fate alone. I postpone my choice. It may be that there will never be another chance for me to make it, but I will take that chance."

"Indeed, there may never be such an opportunity. Disease or violence may take you if old age does not," Thranduil replied. He looked intently at her, as he had done the previous night. "Your answer pleases me. It is unusual for one whose race is well known for envying the immortal. It seems your mistress has taught you wisdom after all. My offer stands. If you wish for my place on the ship, it is yours. Likewise the pendant, if you so desire it."

"This is not mine to receive," said Elireth, holding the pendant out towards the Elvenking. "It is an heirloom of your house. You must give it to your heir. If all the Elven ships have sailed by the time Legolas takes his leave of Middle-earth, then it may be that such a compass is the only light which may steer him towards the shores of Tol Eressëa."

Elireth was sure she saw surprise in the cold eyes of the Elvenking and something approaching a smile on his otherwise uncommunicative face.

"I have known more of Men than many others of my race," he said. "But very rarely have I seen such selfless love among mortals." He nodded towards the Star of Melian. "Take the pendant to Legolas with my blessing."

"No," said Elireth, firmly, although her stomach was churning with nerves as she spoke. "You must give this to Legolas yourself. Make this your final parting gift. If you are to fade from sight, then you must see him once more before you do. He will not come to you."

"So, you would advise me on relations with my son now, would you, Mistress Elireth?" said Thranduil, and this time Elireth was certain he was smiling. "Is this how you win your way into the hearts of the Firstborn in Gondor?"

Elireth blushed and smiled back. She knew that she had persuaded him.

How long she had wandered in the woods in her charmed state and how long she had actually spent in the Halls of the Elvenking, Elireth was unsure, but summer had faded to autumn before the Wood-Elves set out on what would be their last journey. It was not a desirable season for travel, but Elireth had little choice in the matter. And, as the journey was to be made by boat, Thranduil sent Elireth's horse on to Esgaroth with a messenger, informing Queen Arwen of her maid's whereabouts. Again, Elireth was uncomfortable with this arrangement. In her heart she had wished for a sooner return to Ithilien, but it looked as though she was deserting her mistress after all.

It was a long journey and with little rest, as the Elves travelled by both day and night, first paddling their little craft against the flow of the forest river to the roots of the Grey Mountains, and then carrying them until they reached the source of the Anduin, by which they were to travel all the way to Gondor, more or less. Often, Elireth stumbled and felt she was walking in her sleep, but the Elves supported her with their strong arms and sustained her with a cordial like miruvor and with lembas, their waybread. At first the Elves were reluctant to share this with a mortal woman, and indeed Elireth had heard that, relied on too heavily, it produced an uncontrollable longing for the Undying Lands, which seemed the last thing she needed. But no one could gainsay the Elvenking, who insisted she take it.

Eventually, after many weeks of aching back muscles and blistered feet and cold nights under the starlight with nothing but the Elven songs to warm her heart, Elireth saw the familiar landscape of Ithilien and knew they were nearing the place where she had saved the life of Legolas, where their spirits had mingled to leave her changed forever. Now it was her turn to lead the way, through the paths of the forest, crisp with new-fallen leaves and seed-cases, until they came to the flet, which was the point of entry into the Elves' secret colony. The watchers posted there that night scarcely knew who they were more surprised to see - Elireth or their Elf-lord.

"This is the place," said Elireth, in a faltering voice.

"You have served me well, Elireth of Gondor," Thranduil replied. "And you have served my son still better. You think I cannot know what you have done for him, but more comes to me on the wings of the wind than mortal mind can guess. I had thought to despise you when first I found you, but now I see your true worth. Legolas is wise to keep your friendship."

Elireth took a breath to reply but, as she did, she looked down to the Grove and her heart swelled so she could hardly swallow. Legolas was standing in the moonlight beneath the trees, at once so fair and so noble. His bright eyes were fixed on the Elvenking, as Thranduil descended the ladder; his face was filled with wonder and emotion. Elireth turned away and descended the rope on the far side of the tree. This was not her moment. They may look for her when their first meeting was over, but they would not find her. Briskly, before she changed her mind, she set off towards the road. Two hours later, a Rohan outrider on an errand from King Eomer had picked her up and was carrying her back to the White City.


	7. Chapter 7

Chapter 7

Winter came early to Gondor that year. In but a few short weeks, the grass and leaves were stiff and glittering with frost. Elireth had arrived in Minas Tirith weak and pale from her journeying and, in a strange reversal of roles, Lady Eowyn, who was now a skilled healer, had tended her and given her light duties among her own maidens. But ever she would veer back towards the Queens' apartments, which she now saw bore such a close resemblance to those of Rivendell.

It was there she sat on a chill evening some weeks after her arrival at the Hidden Grove, warming herself before the fire while the tears flowed down her cheeks, drop after drop. It had been one thing at the time to surrender her own hopes for those she loved but now, in the gloom of night, the tragedy of her situation came home to her. She remembered the words of Lady Galadriel: _Whenever Elves and mortals love, there is sorrow, deep and endless, sorrow beyond the ending of the world_. Was there no escape? Would she always be torn in two?

"Do not weep alone, _gwathel_," said a voice.

Elireth wiped away her tears and smiled, bravely. There was only one in Middle-earth who referred to her as his sister. She looked up. Legolas was standing in the doorway. The Star of Melian was at his breast. His grey cloak of Lothlórien was wet with night dew. His golden hair was crowned with sprays of mistletoe.

"_Legolas, mellon nín! Ai na vedui!" _she cried.

Legolas came in and they each laid a hand upon each other's cheek before he sat by the fire at her feet. The flickering of the flames lit up his fair features and the light of his eyes shone brightly in the lamplit room.

"You were right, Elireth," he said at length. "It was right that Father and I face one another once more before we were parted. One should not flee from one's grief."

"No, " Elireth agreed, fighting desperately to contain hers.

Legolas looked at Elireth, thoughtfully. "Long have we spoken in the woods," he said. "And my Father spoke much of you. There is much you evidently wish to keep secret, Elireth, and I will not press you to reveal it, but you cannot hide the fact that you have not aged these seven years or that this jewel would never have left my Father's treasure house by his own hand alone."

"He offered it to me," she confessed. "Had I made the –" she hesitated to use the word "- wrong decision, I would now be far away beyond the reach of my kin. Perhaps."

Legolas' already large eyes widened still further.

"He offered you passage West?" he asked, incredulously.

"It may have been a test," she answered. "My forefathers failed it, but for me the temptation only lies in the chance to stay with – well, you know."

"But I am here," smiled Legolas, "not beyond the Sea. And I will continue to be here for a long time, as you reckon it, though to us it is but a short while. And, while I remain, do you not think I wish to see you still?"

"To see me?" She shook her head. "I thought it was for Aragorn that you remained."

"It is for Aragorn and for the Fellowship," he said. "But I would not be without the sister who has saved my life and given me new hope of finding the way to my long home when my time here has passed."

"And what if I live until you leave?" she said. "If my life has been extended – I cannot tell you how, Legolas. That I will never reveal - what will I do then? How do you choose between one eternal separation and another?"

He smiled at her again with the unconscious fondness he so often showed.

"Never go to the Elves for counsel, for they will say both yes and no," he said.

"I'd heard that," she replied, smiling too.

"Then why do you not enjoy the time you have, if more time has indeed been granted you? You can begin by refraining from disappearing so frequently! What sort of a greeting was that, after such an historic journey, may I ask?"

Elireth laughed. It seemed the first time for months that she had been able to do so.

"Now, what do you have to tell me about those pleasant little hobbits?" he asked.

"Much, very much, as you may well imagine," she said, with a wave of her hands. Her gaze lit suddenly on his crown and her eyes sparkled. "But one thing they told to me, now that I remember it, was of a custom in their country that all who stand beneath that plant that you now wear must kiss each other."

"And the proud children of Númenor would wish to honour such rustic customs?" he asked, with a familiar look of mixed amusement and superiority.

"They may," she answered, with a look he felt certain she had learned from Arwen.

"It seems that none of my advice regarding you is ever to be heeded," he said, with a sigh.

"It is just as well that you do not give advice, then," she smiled.

And their lips met.

THE END

_gwathel _sister

_Legolas, mellon nin. Ai na vedui! _Legolas, my friend. Oh at last! (I think - it's a long time since I wrote this story!)

Hope you like this story. Please don't be too harsh with the comments! And before anyone asks, it's just a kiss of friendship.


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